Search This Blog

Posts

Since it seems to be all the rage to have your child be super advanced, Robert and I have started a little joke in which we take everything Joe does and blow it way out of proportion. Apparently, we are NOT the parents who are looking to brag that our child did x by z age, or did xyz early, or go around telling people how ahead our baby is. All I can tell you about Joe's head involves my experience pushing him out, and you don't want to hear about it.

So, here is our super advanced baby, you know, driving a car, and, of course, talking up a storm.

today i packed up the newborn clothes (well, minus the pants because you are so skinny that's the only size that really fits you).

today i packed the newborn clothes. you still seem so tiny, yet they are impossibly even smaller than you.

today i folded the first outfit you ever wore and i remembered that strange, sleepless, dream-like hospital stay in which you entered the world. where we met face to face for the first time.

has 10 weeks gone by? or has it been one? or a thousand? it's so fast, yet so much has changed it's hard to imagine it's been only 10 weeks. it's hard to imagine a time you were not here.

as you drifted off to sleep in my lap, i traced the outline of your face. i'm looking down at my forehead and eyes, yet you look just your father. but then you flinch, i see your aunts, your father's sisters. but if you half grin as you dose off, you pull your mouth back on one side like my nephew, like my father.